


love line

by jjokkiri



Series: 12 days of jjokkiristmas [6]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, radio host!kihyun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-23 10:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13188213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjokkiri/pseuds/jjokkiri
Summary: Yoo Kihyun is the host of a late-night radio show that is on the verge of shutting down, while Shin Hoseok just had his heart broken. And by chance, on a late night, Hoseok finds that when he hears Kihyun’s voice, a part of his heart almost feels like it’s being mended.





	love line

“Kihyun, you know that the show isn’t bringing in any income,” the solemn-faced producer told him, tapping her pen against the surface of the table in front of the microphone. Yoo Kihyun, twenty-five, could see a sheet of paper in front of the woman on her desk. She was clearly trying to hide it from him—rushed to slip it under a clipboard, when he’d entered the room. But, he wasn’t stupid—any radio DJ being told that their show was going to be cancelled knew that all the producers had a new plan for the time slot that would be left empty, when they cancelled his show. “We really can’t keep a radio show going, when there are no listeners.”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Kim, it’s in the middle of the night,” Kihyun insisted, “Of course we’re not going to get a lot of listeners, when the time slot of the show is midnight until two in the morning. It isn’t like we don’t get any listeners at all. The charts clearly show that there are people listening—it’s just significantly less than the morning shows!”

The woman clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, brows knitting together in thought at his response. She almost seemed to be giving his words more thought, but he knew that her mind was already made up and no matter what he said, it wouldn’t be changing her mind. The producer was respected in their field of work because she was serious about everything she did, and despite being kind, all her decisions were final and unchangeable.

But, if there was anything that Kihyun could hope would change her mind, it would be how much he loved his job, despite everything that they couldn’t seem to profit off of. The advertising agencies didn’t care for Kihyun’s streaming of their advertisements, if no one tuned into his show. Anyone in the company who knew Kihyun was well aware of how much he loved his job and his radio show, regardless of how few people he was able to help in his broadcasting hours.

In the middle of the night, broadcasting popular music didn’t make sense. That was the reason that Kihyun’s radio show had been approved of in the first place, but they were intending to remove it for the sake of something that could make greater revenue. Kihyun couldn’t help but wonder what could be better than soothing night owls of heartache and lulling them to sleep—couldn’t help but wonder what could possibly bring in more revenue than they already were.

It was not as if they were operating his radio show at a loss. He knew, as well as anyone else, that they still pulled in a fair amount of revenue from the advertisement agencies—it simply wasn’t as much as the shows that aired in the mornings, when everyone was headed to work and absently listening to white noise; turning their radios on to any random station and letting the sound play. But, it only made it more heartbreaking to know that they were cancelling his show, disregarding everything else.

“We’ll give you a fair severance package, Kihyun. You’ve been with us for a long time and we at least owe you that much,” she replied, gently. There was a light in her eyes beneath the stern gaze, reflecting the guilt she felt, and Kihyun resisted the urge to break down in the middle of the producer’s studio. “This is your two-week notice, before we let you go and cancel the radio show.”

He already knew that nothing good would be coming out of it, when he was being called into the head producer’s studio, after he’d gathered his things and prepared to enter the main studio to start streaming his radio show for the night. No one else was in the building, at the time, but he could feel the phantom stare of empathy from his co-workers.

There was a rumour from all of the morning radio show hosts—a whisper around the company—that declared _‘if you were called into the head producer’s studio, you were going to be leaving without a job’_.

Kihyun had hoped, more than anything, that it wasn’t true. But, unfortunately for him, he’d be walking out of the company in two weeks, without a job and no leads to where his next job would be—he didn’t have the connections to immediately catch his fall. The head producer did nothing, when Kihyun opened his mouth to try and defend his position, one last time. She only offered him an apologetic smile and a gentle pat on his arm, when his argument was met with silence and a contrite shake of her head. He inhaled sharply and his eyes glistened with the threat of tears, but her decision was firm.

When the woman dismissed him from her office, instructing him to head to work, the dark-haired man exhaled heavily and pulled his phone out of his pocket, checking the date. As he walked down the hallway to the main studio, he kept his eyes on his phone—finger moving across the calendar on the screen. Lee Jooheon, the kind audio director gave him a bright smile, when he entered the studio, not sensing the trouble haunting Kihyun. It was nice to see something so familiar, but he knew it wouldn’t last.

Eyes moving back down to look at his phone, after he managed a soft smile in Jooheon’s direction, Kihyun’s heart twinged with anguish when he counted the days and his finger landed on the twenty-fifth day of the month.

His last day working was Christmas Day.

 _Merry Christmas to me_ , he thought, bitterly.

The dark-haired man placed his phone back into his pocket, locking the device and proceeded to reach for the headphones lying to the side of the microphone. As per protocol, he slid down into his seat and tapped his finger gently against the filter of the microphone, turning his eyes to where Jooheon sat in his cubicle. From the glass-enclosed room in front of him, the audio director gave him a thumbs up as the clock struck midnight, and Kihyun resisted the urge to sigh heavily.

He could see Jooheon mouthing something to him as the _‘on air’_ sign above the door illuminated with a bright red light. Suddenly, all of his problems were meant to be ignored, as he tended to the restless minds of others.

“Good evening,” he said, into the microphone, forcing a smile onto his lips as he kept the sadness out of his tone. Reading off the script, Kihyun kept his voice even, “It’s a snowy night in Seoul City. Midnight brings us back together, won’t you join me in listening to some calming music along with some stories?”

 

 

 

The snowflakes fell from the sky and landed gently on the windshield of Shin Hoseok’s car, headlights of the vehicle glowing in the darkness of the night, brightening the streets that were barely lit with street lights. In the darkness of an hour past midnight, the street looked as if it were an abandoned area. The engine hummed and the sound was white noise from inside the vehicle. With the driver’s seat almost fully reclined, Hoseok laid in the seat with his arm folded behind his head. Though, the vehicle was started, Hoseok showed no signs of intent to actually be driving.

The man held a silver-coloured ring between his slender fingers and his eyes rested on it, anything other than heartbreak in his eyes being completely unreadable. Hurt was written all over his face, but it gleamed the brightest in his eyes. On the hand that was holding the ring, there was a matching band around his finger, and when he rotated the ring between his fingers, both of the silver bands gleamed in the light of the street lights shining in through the windshield.

In the car, there was no sound aside from Hoseok’s soft breathing and the hum of the vehicle’s engine—practical silence. Movement was scarce—everything seemed to remain completely still, aside from the way Hoseok’s chest moved with every breath he took.

“I probably look so pathetic,” he suddenly said, chuckling to himself, despite being completely alone in the car. The sound was hopeless—a laugh void of humour. Shoving the ring into his pocket with a soft sigh, the twenty-four year old man brought his hand back to his face, covering it with a low groan. “I need to stop doing this to myself.”

Then, lowering his hand, he stared up at the street lights from inside the car. The lights shone down at him, yellowish and dim. The world around him was always the same, but there was a storm in his heart that was still trying to recover from heartbreak.

His voice was a quiet mutter under his breath, “It’s just going to make me sadder than I already am,” he reasoned with himself, the sound of his voice almost berating. “I can’t change anything. It’s already happened.”

 _‘You’re getting engaged so early?’_ , _‘you know that it’s not going to last, right?’_ , _‘don’t you think you’re rushing into this?’_ and _‘maybe you should wait a little longer? Get to know one another a little better’_. He’d heard it all from his family and all of his close friends, when the idea of marriage had been brought up. He always knew that everyone around him was right, but he was stubborn and was never willing to listen to them. He clung to all of his emotions and the whirlwind he’d called romance, because with a single glance to the person whom he’d sworn he was so madly in love with, everything was erased from his mind, because _‘they’_ were the only things that seemed to matter, when they were together.

It had been a mutual decision to break off the engagement and go their separate ways, but every heartbreak was taken harder on one side. He couldn’t help but think that his ex-fiancé was taking everything so much lighter than he was. (But, from the beginning, they both already knew that Hoseok would be the one in more pain at the end of everything they went through together).

Fight after useless fight, it all burned down into something that simply wasn’t worth it; something that wasn’t worth the emotions they had invested into one another, anymore. After the three long years they had spent together, it all dwindled down into a relationship that was no longer worth the effort that neither of them were really capable of putting in for each other, anymore.

All with time, after three years of what they had believed was bliss, everything fell apart and they _chose_ to destroy what was left.

But, with all the time they had shared with one another, it was impossible for the separation to not have caused pain. And it had to be Hoseok who walked away from the entire idea of _‘them’_ , taking the harder hit from the impact of it all.

Days passed in meaningless, mundane patterns and Hoseok found his nights willing themselves away; countless nights at ungodly hours, where the stared blankly into empty nothingness and waited for _something_. In reality, if his ex-fiancé were to come back to him and ask for a second chance, he wouldn’t accept it—they had nothing to work towards, anymore. But, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t criticizing himself for having ever fallen in love so quickly; for having rushed into everything so quickly, despite everything that everyone around him reminded him.

In the most realistic perspective, Hoseok was perfectly aware that it wasn’t entirely his fault that everything fell apart and slipped out right between their fingers. But, at the same time, that understanding wasn’t enough to drive him away from blaming himself for every single frown on his ex-fiancé’s face and that gaze he’d been given, when they decided that it wasn’t worth it to _try_ anymore.

And more than anything, he wanted to pull the ring off of his finger and throw it away; never look at it again, when he finally discarded the piece of jewelry that felt so heavy on his hand and weighed down his heart. But, he couldn’t bring himself to let the happy memories slip away from him so soon after everything fell to pieces, right in front of him.

His friends never knew what to tell him when he gave them heartbroken smiles and asked them to give him some space. All they knew to do was hold him while he cried, biting their tongues on the reminder that they had been the ones who told him that something like this would eventually happen, because everything happened all too quickly. And his parents only managed to flash him apologetic smiles, masking their disappointment in him, when he visited his parents and laid down in bed, staring up at the ceiling with absolutely nothing to say.

The soundless atmosphere in the car was slowly beginning to drive him insane—his thoughts taking over his mind and forcing him to think too much about things he could no longer change. If there was anything that Hoseok couldn’t stand about himself, it was the fact that he always let his emotions interfere with everything he did. He was always sensitive, but the heartbreak simply seemed to tear him apart and leave him unable to remember how to function as he did in a life before his ex-fiancé.

Mindlessly, he reached for the radio dial, letting his eyes fall shut. The sound of anything on the radio would be better than his mind trying to terrorize him and make him berate himself for things that were irreversible. There was the soft crackle of static before a voice was filtering through the speakers of his car. The sound of the man’s voice was somehow pacifying to his mind and Hoseok found himself sitting up a little straighter to listen to the speaker.

 _“—here with a listening ear. And remember, if ever need someone to talk to—be it for heartache, life or you’d just like someone to speak to, I’m here for you,”_ the soothing voice said. Then, he proceeded to recite a phone number for the listeners to dial. Shortly after, an advertisement began playing through the speakers of Hoseok’s car.

His eyes fluttered back open and he stared up at the street lights glowing above him for a moment, before he picked up his phone, the device nearly knocking itself over from its spot in the cup holder of his car. Absently, he dialed the number that was recited moments ago and he stared at the screen. The light of the screen shone back at him, uselessly waiting for him to do something with it before its light dimmed and the device locked itself.

He had no real reason to be dialing the number. He could have been blocking up the line for people who actually knew what to say to this man with a beautifully tranquil voice. But, he reasoned with himself—a little too quickly—that at this hour, though, he couldn’t imagine how many other people in Seoul City would be calling into a radio show. Hoseok hadn’t the slightest idea of what the time was, but he remembered getting into his car and hoping to go for a drive at midnight, and he hadn’t budged in what felt like forever.

It had to be at least an hour past midnight.

And with a moment of thoughtlessness and reckless reasoning, his thumb reached for the glowing green button on the screen of his phone. He tapped the button at the same moment that the commercial ended and the voice on the radio returned to the speakers, reintroducing himself to the listeners. Then, Hoseok could hear the soft but strikingly distinctive sound of a phone’s almost muffled ringing, through his speakers. It was so different from the soothing sound of the speaker’s voice.

There was a moment of silence.

 _“Oh!”_ he heard the host exclaim with a delicate note of excitement in his voice.

His eyes fell shut again as he waited for a response.

 

 

 

Jooheon visibly bit back a smile, when the phone rang and Kihyun’s eyes widened when he looked up at the younger man in surprise. Having people call into the show was a rare event, despite his full knowledge that they had listeners in the dead of the night, hearing the phone ring wasn’t something that happened often. And Kihyun couldn’t hide the surprise that coloured his expression when he reached over to the phone and pressed the button to answer the call.

“Hello?” he responded, the sound of his voice almost hesitant. From inside the glass-enclosed room, he could see Jooheon giving him an encouraging smile and a nod of his head. The younger man turned up a dial and there was the sound of another man’s voice coming from the speakers. Kihyun cleared his throat, swallowing the sudden excitement, “Hello, thank you for calling in to _Midnight Minds_ ,” his eyes followed the script carefully, his mouth feeling almost unfamiliar with the words being spoken. “May we have a name to go with our conversation, tonight?”

There was hesitance on the other side of the line, but then the man was speaking, _“… oh, Hoseok,”_ he answered, voice rumbling through both Kihyun’s headset and the studio’s speakers. _“My name is Hoseok.”_

Kihyun’s lips curled into a small smile and he parted his lips, processing his thoughts for his next statement, “It’s a pleasure to hear from you, tonight, Hoseok. Tonight is beautiful night, but may I ask what is troubling you?”

 _“Is this scripted?”_ Hoseok asked, after a moment of silence. Surprised at the bold inquiry, Kihyun found himself breaking from his steady role and he blinked rapidly at the microphone in front of him, as if it would give him any answers.

“No,” he replied, the sudden shock driving honesty out of him, “Not really. Not the parts where I talk to people.”

Then, there was the sound of a soft chuckle from the other end of the line. Kihyun blinked, confused.

 _“You must speak formally very often,”_ Hoseok told him, and Kihyun could hear the sound of shuffling from the other end of the line, indicating that the other man must have been in a rather narrow space. And as Kihyun found himself unsure of how to respond, Hoseok inhaled softly, _“It’s refreshing to hear. Your voice is soothing.”_

Kihyun hesitated. From the corner of his eye, he could see Jooheon’s encouraging smile as he listened into the conversation from his own headset in the room across from where Kihyun was sitting. If receiving calls from listeners was rare, then it was even rarer for Kihyun to receive compliments from the listeners. And if it were more common than he was aware of, then the compliments never actually managed to reach his ears.

To an extent, he almost felt flustered at the sound of praise.

 _“It’s a compliment,”_ Hoseok added, when he realized that Kihyun was speechless at his words. _“I’m sorry if it was sudden, but hearing the sound of your voice made me call in against my conscious will. I just thought I should tell you.”_

“No, thank you,” he responded, the sound of his voice a little unsure. He tried his best to not stumble shyly over his words. “I just don’t really hear compliments a lot.”

Again, there was quiet laughter.

 _“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, Mr. DJ,”_ Hoseok said, _“I should probably hang up and let others call in. I’m probably keeping up a line of people that actually want to speak to you.”_

“Mr. DJ,” Kihyun repeated, before he realized that Hoseok must not have been a frequent listener. He must have been someone who was flipping through the channels before he’d suddenly decided to call into the show. And in all honesty, Kihyun couldn’t help but feel a burning gratitude towards the other man, because his night had gone from monotonously speaking to an invisible crowd to speaking to another person—someone who didn’t work with him and someone who didn’t know him personally. _Hoseok was a listener, even if Hoseok was just a temporary one._ And though it didn’t change the fate of his radio show, it was comforting to his heart. “My name is Kihyun. You can just call me Kihyun, if you’d like.”

Biting down on his lower lip, the dark-haired radio show host inhaled, “It’s okay if you want to stay on the line and speak to me,” he said, after a moment. Deciding that there wasn’t a point in sticking loosely to the script, Kihyun’s fingers curled against the edge of the table where his papers were sitting, “We’re not a popular show, and it’s the middle of the night. There isn’t anyone else on the other lines, so it’s fine if you’d like to stay and speak to me…”

 _“… Would you like the company?”_ Hoseok asked him after a moment. Kihyun’s fingers curled into a fist, insecure of the response that wanted to leave his lips.

“Only if you’d like to stay,” he answered, throwing his caution to the wind. In two weeks, none of this would matter anymore. Even if he was willing to speak to a stranger until the end of his shift, when the phone call ended, they would both return to their normal lives and forget about the time they’d spent talking to one another on the phone. They would both forget about the conversation that broadcast across national radio, on a show that no one listened to.

There was the sound of Hoseok’s soft chuckle again and Kihyun felt his lips curling into a small smile to match the shy sound of the other man’s laughter; the lighter tone in his voice, _“I think I would,”_ he answered. _“You said you’d accept calls from people who wanted nothing more than to talk to someone else in the middle of the night, right?”_

Kihyun exhaled softly, the sound light and nothing short of thrilled.

“Yes,” he answered, “That’s what I’m here for.”

And there was some kind of relief flooding through Kihyun’s chest, warming his body.

 

 

 

So very unlike himself, Hoseok ended up practically telling his life story to the faceless radio show host.

He was never the type of person to spill everything to a complete stranger, but there was something about Kihyun that made it feel a lot easier than it was usually. Speaking to Kihyun, despite it being streamed through the radio from his phone, made him forget that he was complaining about all of his problems on national radio broadcast and there was a chance for everyone to know about his problems.

( _“But, that doesn’t mean that love doesn’t exist. It’s not making a mistake and wasting your time,”_ Kihyun’s soft voice had gently urged him, when he’d opened up about the history behind himself and his ex-fiancé—broke down about why he was upset and why he was awake at an ungodly hour and speaking to a stranger. _“It’s having an experience and knowing what to do next time, because we’re not all born with all the knowledge in the world. We do things and learn from the things that go wrong. But, no matter how much time you’d invested into it, it doesn’t make it a mistake.”_ )

They were practically uninterrupted in their conversation until the near the end of the radio show, when the clock struck 1:55 and Kihyun was meant to say his greetings and bid the listeners goodnight. The radio show host had bid him a goodbye before he hung him the phone and continued on with the radio show and bid his farewell to the listeners. Hoseok shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the back of the seat as he listened to Kihyun’s voice, before the sound of his voice cross-faded into ambient noise.

His heavy mind felt less troubled after speaking to Kihyun, but he found himself with a wandering mind—absently thinking of the kind radio show host who was so very compassionate to strangers who came to him with their problems.

Unsure of where the radio show host was, nor who he really was, Hoseok still felt significantly lighter after speaking to someone else about all of his problems. Somehow, it felt a hundred times better to be talking to someone who could give an entirely unbiased opinion, simply because he didn’t know him very well.

A wavering heart found itself finally relaxing instead of clenching in pain, when he glanced back at the rings in the cup holder and locked the doors of his car. He watched as his headlights blinked in response, indicating its locked state. Then, pulling the material of his thick jacket tightly around his body, Hoseok walked back into the warmth and safety of his apartment, falling into his bed and letting himself fall asleep to the fleeting memory of a soft, soothing voice that managed to pull him away from self-hatred—even if just for a couple moments.

 

 

 

The call from Hoseok was a single night where work actually involved Kihyun speaking to someone who wasn’t Jooheon, both before and after his shift. It didn’t seem that anyone else had been listening to the radio show at the time, because when Kihyun asked the young man who worked in the monitoring room about the listener count during the hours of his stream. He’d returned to the lunch room with an almost disappointing report of a single person’s extended listening time.

It would have been disheartening, if Kihyun didn’t know that it was inevitable to return with such a low listening count. But, despite his knowledge that his statistics wouldn’t be impressive, Kihyun couldn’t help himself from thinking that he’d imagined the entire night. He couldn’t help but thing that his dejected state had forced him to believe that something significant happened in the middle of the night, when someone finally called into an overlooked radio show.

 _How was it possible that after all this time, someone finally called in and spoke to him?_ It didn’t help that the call happened once and Hoseok never called back after their hour long conversation about all of Hoseok’s problems. It was all too possible for it to have been a figment of his imagination—the one-time event, no matter how prominent it was in his mind. And he might have convinced himself that it never happened, if Jooheon wasn’t there to have listened to the call with him, and had Jooheon not brought it up the next time that they were together outside of working hours.

The young audio director was cheeky when he threw his arm around Kihyun’s shoulder, three days later, when they ran into one another in the hallway of the company building. Kihyun arched his eyebrows at the blond, flashing a kind smile at him. Jooheon nudged his side with a grin.

“So,” he said, lips curled into a playful smirk that rendered Kihyun confused. “Did you ever end up giving that mysterious boy your number and talk to him outside of working hours?”

Jooheon had left his little cubicle when Kihyun was closing the show, because he needed to get off work a little earlier. On normal days, he waited for Kihyun to follow him out of the studio and they’d walk to their cars together. But, that night, Jooheon hadn’t had the chance to stay until the end of Kihyun’s shift. He didn’t know the end of the story with Hoseok, and he didn’t know about how Kihyun couldn’t stop wondering about the mysterious man who had spilled his entire life story to a stranger in the dead of the night.

“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning as he turned to walk towards to the company’s cafeteria. Jooheon followed him, the grin on his lips never fading as he watched Kihyun’s every movement.

“You know,” he replied, “That guy that called into the show the other day. Did you guys ever end up talking again?”

Kihyun raised an eyebrow, side-eying the younger man. “Why do you ask that? He wouldn’t call in again unless he had more problems to talk to me about, don’t you think?”

Jooheon pursed his lips in consideration, “Well, I do think so. But, that’s only if we were ignoring the fact that you guys flirted on national radio broadcast for an entire hour.”

 _“Flirting?”_ Kihyun echoed, his voice practically a squawk of horror. “Jooheon, he just broke off an engagement with someone! You can’t possibly think that someone like that would be flirting with someone else so quickly.”

Jooheon laughed, shrugging his shoulders, “I didn’t say anything about him being the one who was doing all the flirting, you know.”

Scandalized, Kihyun swatted at his friend’s shoulder and furrowed his brows.

“I was _not_ flirting,” he replied. “I hardly even know who he is.”

“But, you know his entire life story,” Jooheon pointed out, batting his lashes innocently. Kihyun made a face.

“He could have just been making it all up, though,” he replied, “Not that I doubt someone who would stay up at ungodly hours to call into a radio show and vent about their problems.”

Jooheon grinned, “But, if you insist that he’s just making it up, then that would just prove my point. Only someone who was into you would make up a whole story to talk to you for hours, you know.”

“He can’t be into me. That’s ridiculous,” Kihyun said, frowning. “He doesn’t know me, Jooheon.”

Cheekily, Jooheon poked his fingers against Kihyun’s cheek with the hand that was draped around Kihyun’s shoulders. His eyes twinkled underneath the bright lights of the company’s hallways, mischief and happiness swirling together.

“But, you can’t tell me you wouldn’t let him get to know you if he wanted to, am I right?” he paused, his finger staying pressed against Kihyun’s cheek. “Or am I right?”

Kihyun smacked his arm, quick footsteps carrying him away from the younger man. He could hear Jooheon laughing at him from behind him, even as their distance increased. And then, Jooheon was chasing after him down the hallway.

 

 

 

It took another two days before the phone rang when Kihyun was working, again. He made eye contact with the audio director when the device rang and interrupted the story that he was reading off of the script. Jooheon flashed him a little smile of interest and Kihyun could see him pushing himself away from the row of mixers and resting his elbows on the table, watching Kihyun with interest. The radio show host rolled his eyes and pressed the button to answer the call.

He had no expectations but his heart still raced in his chest with anticipation as he reached for the button, despite a voice in his head telling him that he shouldn’t be expecting too much. Still, after receiving one call in the past weeks, he couldn’t help but hope that it was some type of repetition of the one night.

“Good evening, thank you for calling in to _Midnight Minds_ ,” he greeted, keeping the smile in his voice for whomever was on the other end of the line. “What can I do for you, tonight?”

 _“Well, you could not read off the script,”_ came the response. Kihyun and Jooheon made surprised eye contact with one another over the microphone, before Jooheon’s lips quickly curved into a pleased smile. Kihyun could see him gesturing for Kihyun to continue what he was doing—shrugging as if something he’d said was finally proven.

Kihyun managed a laugh, the sound leaving his lips almost awkwardly.

“I’m not reading off a script, sir,” he answered.

 _“Right,”_ the familiar voice replied. _“You don’t read off of scripts when you talk to the people who call into the show, right?”_

“That’s right,” Kihyun told him, a little unsure of what to expect next from the call.

_“You don’t remember me, do you?”_

“No,” Kihyun said, his voice sounding hesitant. “I do. You’re the only person who has called in for the past week. I haven’t forgotten the sound of your voice, yet.”

A soft chuckle, _“I’m glad. It would be unfortunate if you forgot the sound of my voice, when I haven’t forgotten yours.”_

“Oh,” Kihyun breathed, uncertain of how to respond to the confession. Hoseok was quick to add to his statement and try to amend what had left his lips as a little bit questionable—questionable to be saying to a stranger, at least.

 _“I’ve been tuning into every single broadcast over the past few days to help me fall asleep,”_ Hoseok clarified. _“You really haven’t been getting any calls. I thought you were joking when you said that, honestly.”_

“You didn’t believe me,” Kihyun remarked, the frown almost obvious in his voice. Hoseok laughed and Kihyun could imagine that he was shaking his head in disbelief at the accusation.

 _“Honestly,”_ Hoseok said, _“I really didn’t.”_

“Would any radio show host play down the popularity of their show when it’s meant to be shutting down in a couple of days because nothing is coming out of it?”

From his peripheral vision, Kihyun could see Jooheon sitting up straight in his seat with his eyes widening. He’d forgotten that he didn’t tell Jooheon that their time together was going to be coming to a close, soon. He had almost convinced himself that the head producer would just tell the younger man that they’d be halting their activities indefinitely, on the day that Kihyun parted ways with the company.

He supposed that he should have been more considerate of the younger man. If there was anyone that he was close to, at the company, it would be Jooheon; yet, he told him that their time together would be ending at the same time that he was telling a stranger that he’d spoken to _twice._

 _“You’re ending your show?”_ Hoseok asked, after a brief second of silence. _“Why?”_

Kihyun sighed softly, “It’s just not meant to be a long-term project, you know? Not everything lasts forever and it isn’t always our faults. But, we learn to hold our heads high and move onto the next thing, because there’s no point in beating yourself up over things that you can’t really change, you know?”

_And it would be the greatest thing in the world, if he could manage to convince himself of what he was preaching._

 

 

 

Somehow, being told that Kihyun’s show was ending in a couple of days and there was nothing that they could do about it drove Hoseok to dial into his show, every single night to talk to him. He couldn’t care very much for the fact that their conversations were being broadcast across the entire city’s radio station, if not the entire nation. He couldn’t even care for the fact that there had to be other people sitting with Kihyun in the studio of his radio show, listening in to their conversations, because all he knew was that speaking to Kihyun made him forget about all the sadness he was carrying around in his heart, even if it was just a temporary thing.

There was something about the other man that kept a part of his mind tranquil.

At some point, it became a habit to wait until the late hours of the night, before he could turn on his radio and call into Kihyun’s radio show to talk to him. Even when he returned to his parents’ home on the other side of Seoul, he made sure to stay up and call in to talk to the younger man. And Kihyun sounded so thrilled to speak to him, when he picked up the phone—if it wasn’t his mind trying to paint and mask everything with a different light; trying to hide the harsh, bitter truth.

And Hoseok swore that he slept peacefully with a feather-light mind, every single night that he ended the call with the radio show host. And that was enough for him.

Kihyun’s goal with the radio show, as he learned over the few days where they spoke to one another, was to soothe the minds of the restless citizens of Seoul and lull them to sleep. If anything, it eased a part of Hoseok’s mind to know that even if Kihyun’s show was being canceled, the big picture of his dreams to help people was helping for _someone_ —even if that _someone_ was just someone like Hoseok.

They both knew that their time together was limited, because after Kihyun’s show was no longer broadcast live, there wasn’t a method for Hoseok to speak to him. And Hoseok couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to stop talking to Kihyun, every single night. It might have been a strange impulsive decision to call into the radio show, but despite not really knowing very much about Kihyun, Hoseok couldn’t help but feel like he made a valuable friend out of it all.

And even when it was all gone, he could say that it all meant something great to him.

_(Just like every failed relationship in his life—except it would all end on a brighter note.)_

 

 

 

He didn’t have the heart to tell Hoseok exactly when the last day that they’d be able to talk was. A part of him insisted that it would make it feel too _real_ to be ridding them both of a dreamlike moment in their lives when they shared everything with a stranger. And it was Jooheon who convinced him that it would be better if he just found it in himself to break it down to the stranger whom he spoke to, every single night, instead of leaving without a word.

Christmas Day came to him a lot quicker than he’d hoped for and as the days passed by him and the universe counted down to the day that he’d be leaving the company he’d worked with for almost an entire year, Kihyun found himself growing more and more nervous to tell Hoseok that their time together was finally coming to an end.

Had it just been a couple weeks ago, Kihyun couldn’t have imagined how much a complete stranger could mean to him. But, after everything that happened in the past week, he couldn’t even begin to grasp how fast Hoseok came to mean so much to him. From the very first call from the older man, it was like listening to a song once and then suddenly realizing that you’ve become so in love with that one song—realizing that you kept wanting it to play.

It wasn’t that Kihyun was in love with a complete stranger, but it was more that he was so _grateful_ that in the moment that everything around him seemed to be spiraling into a dark abyss, when everyone else around him was happy, he had someone to talk to—someone who understood what it felt like to hurt, when everyone around them was _happy;_ someone who understood him and at least a _part_ of what he felt.

They were different, that much Kihyun knew—Hoseok was healing from a break-up and Kihyun was coping with the knowledge that he wouldn’t have a job to start the new year and he’d have to start everything over again from square one—but somehow, they were the same. They were two individual souls longing for someone to be able to understand that _sometimes_ it was hard to put on a smile, and that was _okay._

 _“—don’t have any plans, tonight?”_ Hoseok’s voice came from his headset. Kihyun exhaled softly.

“I’m going to be cleaning up the studio and taking all of my stuff home,” he said, “I won’t be coming back here, so I should just get rid of everything, now.”

There was hesitance on the other end of the line and he could almost hear the frown in Hoseok’s voice. Kihyun’s heart clenched uncomfortably at the sound of his voice _. “Oh… where are you going?”_

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Kihyun lowered guilty eyes to where his abandoned script was sitting on the table in front of him. He inhaled, his voice leaving his lips as a faint whisper, “Today is my last day.”

_“Oh.”_

The disappointment in Hoseok’s voice was too much for him to ignore. He stared down at his hands, missing the way his audio director winced at the sound of Hoseok’s voice.

“Yeah,” he managed to say, unable to say anything else to the older man. The guilt flooded his mind and he played with his fingers under the table, eyes downcast despite Hoseok being unable to actually see him. And for a moment, there was just the sound of soft breathing being broadcast through the studio and the radio.

Then, Kihyun could see Jooheon knocking on the glass of the studio and he looked up, eyes wide. The younger man gestured for him to take one side of his headset off. Puzzled, Kihyun obediently followed his instructions and Jooheon leaned against the glass, dramatically mouthing something at him.

It took Kihyun a moment to realize that Jooheon was telling him to ask Hoseok for some other form of contact. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment at the thought of seeing Hoseok in person, after the days of listening to one another’s voices. It was meeting up with a stranger, but meeting up with a stranger that knew _so much_ about you.

Somehow, it felt like meeting up with a pen-pal—except, it might have been something more.

“Hoseok,” he called, suddenly. He could feel Jooheon’s earnest gaze on him and he felt his heart racing with all of his nerves as he waited for the response. It came as a quiet hum from the older man and Kihyun took a breath. “You don’t have any plans tonight, right?”

 _“Yeah,”_ he answered. _“Why?”_

“This is kind of crazy,” Kihyun started, quickly trying to gather his words and form them into coherent sentences. His mind worked so much slower than his mouth wanted to move and it rendered his sentences slightly hesitant. “But, would… would it be okay if I asked you if you wanted to meet up with me, somewhere? We could spend Christmas Day together—it’s a little bit last minute, but it’s better than being alone, right?”

There was a silence, before he could hear the soft intake of air from Hoseok’s end of the line.

_“Do you promise that you’re not some kind of serial killer with a really well thought out plan?”_

Kihyun let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as a laugh, “Yes,” he answered. “I promise.”

 _“I’ll be by the Han River at around two-thirty,”_ Hoseok told him, following a short silence that was obviously spent as a moment to think to himself, _“There’s practically no one here at this time of night. You should be able to find me pretty easily. And if you can’t, then just call my name… I’m sure I can find you, if I hear your voice.”_

He couldn’t deny the way his heart skipped a beat at the comment.

“Perfect. I’ll see you,” he said, softly, unable to help the small smile that broke out across his face.

And when he looked up, he saw Jooheon flashing him two thumbs-up. He grinned, heart racing in his chest.

 

 

 

Hoseok really wasn’t joking when he said that the riverside would be practically empty at this time of the night. When Kihyun walked to the riverside, he couldn’t see anyone already standing there. And with a nervous glance to his watch, he pushed down the thought that Hoseok would be the type of person to stand him up on a day like this.

But, all of his worries vanished when he spotted a lone figure standing by the rail, under a row of street lights. With a hopeful heart, Kihyun slowly approached the silhouette, hoping he wasn’t mistaken.

“Hoseok?” he called, when he was standing just a couple meters away from the other man, his voice quiet. At the sound of his name being called, the man turned his head towards the sound of Kihyun’s voice and then he was smiling brightly. The night was dark, but the street lights illuminated the space they were standing in.

“Kihyun,” Hoseok breathed, looking him up and down. For a split second, he felt a little insecure from the way that the other man was looking at him. He shifted his feet, raising his brows to question Hoseok’s silence upon taking in his appearance for the first time. “You’re… a lot cuter than I bargained for.”

The younger man shoved his hands into his pockets and shyly averted his eyes. And if he were honest with himself, then he really had to say the same thing about the older man, but he’d never be bold enough to say it aloud.

“Stop that,” he muttered, biting down on his lower lip. He could feel Hoseok’s amused smile on him. “You really don’t have to take every possible chance that you have to compliment me, you know.”

Hoseok chuckled, “But, I want to.”

Despite being the one who came up with the entire idea of meeting up with one another in person, instead of spending a lonely Christmas alone, Kihyun found that they got along easily in person—much to his relief. They ended up walking around the riverside at an ungodly hour talking to one another about everything under the sun, because _this time_ they weren’t limited on time and they could talk about anything they wanted without worrying about it being broadcast across the entirety of the city of Seoul.

And in the time they spent, walking alongside one another, Kihyun found that Hoseok’s sense of humour was bright and he couldn’t keep a smile off of his face. Perhaps because the sound of Hoseok’s laughter felt like bright rays of sunshine on a summer day—and in the middle of the winter, it was the most comforting thing.

At another time, he would blame the late hour of the night for the reckless decision to reach for Hoseok’s hand and gently intertwine their fingers, without a word at some point later in the night. He could feel the way Hoseok tensed up when their fingers laced together.

With his heart racing in his chest, Kihyun turned to look at the taller man, eyes shining nervously under the street lights.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, voice quiet and apprehensive; _shy_. “I… I really just wanted to hold your hand. But, we can just walk and talk if you want to. We don’t have to do anything. I know that you’re not ready to rush into anything, so soon. But, I just wanted to hold your hand.”

Then, Hoseok’s fingers were slowly clasping around his— _relaxing_. A small smile blossomed onto his face when their hands were linked together properly. Kihyun couldn’t help but mirror the expression on Hoseok’s face.

“No,” the older man answered, shaking his head. “This is fine. You can hold my hand.”

And when Hoseok’s eyes met with his and lingered on his face for a little longer, he could feel all of his problems melting away slowly. And even if it was just temporary, he could spent a little while in a delusional that everything was beautiful before he snapped back to reality; before they would both snap back to reality and walk with their heads held high into a new chapter of their lives.

Kihyun never quite imagined that a chance encounter with a complete stranger could end up meaning so much to him, but when he was looking at Hoseok’s glowing silhouette as he walked behind him with their hands entwined, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like if he hadn’t met this man. So, with his heart racing, he reassured himself with a small smile and his fingers tightened their grip around Hoseok’s fingers.

_Everything happened for a reason._

**Author's Note:**

> I have not abandoned this series and I definitely do have plans of choking up the remaining six works for this series within the next two days. You can find me screaming on Twitter @yuseokki as per usual!


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